


the wild ones

by battyboy



Series: The Wild Ones AKA The Starky Bunch [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward First Times, Ballet, Basically just a bunch of high schoolers making poor choices, Churches & Cathedrals, Consensual Thramsay, Consensual Underage Sex, Dinner Parties, Everyone's a couple, F/F, F/M, Horny Teenagers, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Ramsay is his own warning, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Starks adopt the Greyjoys and Jon, The Starks are rich asf, The Starks are the fucking Brady Bunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battyboy/pseuds/battyboy
Summary: In which the Starks have a brood of biological and adopted children and those children need to calm to the fuck down. A dinner party and some relationships that may or may not be legal.





	the wild ones

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo, fandom! This is a part of a new modern AU I'll be writing, which features the Starks as parents of their usual brood, plus Jon, Theon, and Asha. A bunch of silly high schoolers who need to C H I L L.

 

“YOU RIDICULOUS BUNCH OF BRATS WILL PUT ON SOME NICE CLOTHES AND STOP ARGUING AND COME DOWNSTAIRS AND GO TO THIS GOD DAMN CHURCH THIS INSTANT!” Catelyn Stark shouted. Her voice echoed through the large house and was met with silence. Catelyn’s left eye twitched as it did when she was on the hunt for blood. Or eight spoiled brats who wanted to make their mother look bad. She stormed past the grand piano, up the grand staircase, and paused at the grand painting of her husband’s family that stood on the landing, cursing all the while. _Grand, grand, grand._ It was all of this opulence, all of this ease that had turned her children into spoiled little shits. Spoiled little shits who would rather argue about who was more likely to get into a better college than go to church as a family.

One of her children, the youngest and sweetest, Rickon, was the first to emerge. He was only seven, and the severe age gap between him and the rest of his siblings had made he and Catelyn very close. He was dressed for church, thank God, but wearing a pair of Sansa’s pink stilettos. The Greek-style straps went all the way up his little legs. “Y’know, Mama, you probably shouldn’t say the D-word when you’re talking about a church and God,” he said, wobbling over to her and giving her a hug. “D’you like my new shoes? Sansa said they make her look slutty so I can have them!”

Catelyn held her youngest son at arm’s length and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sweetie, I think you look great and I’m glad you got some new shoes, but don’t say that word.”

“Shoes?” Rickon asked, cocking his head.

“No, baby, don’t say ‘slutty.’ It’s a very rude word that men say to women when they...well..act the same way men do. Anyway...” She was about to ask Rickon to change out of the godawful shoes until she checked her watch, found that they had to be at the church in ten minutes (it was a twenty minute drive), all of her fury from a moment ago came back. “Okay, Rickon, sweetheart, please go get in the car. You can wear your new shoes _and_ ride up front if you get your father in the car before I strangle your siblings. I mean...wrangle. Wrangle them, yes.”

Rickon glowed with happiness and stumbled down the stairs, crying, “DADDY, C’MON, GET IN THE CAR SO MAMA DOESN’T KILL YOU AND SO I CAN RIDE UP FRONT!” _One down, seven to go._

Catelyn raged down he hall and knocked viciously at the door to Arya’s room. “Arya Stark, open the door this instant or I’ll pull you out of your dance troup!” The door flew open immediately, and Arya and her twin brother Bran tumbled out.

“Sorry, Mom,” Bran said breathlessly. “We were having a practice debate.” His tie was askew and he was wearing jeans, not slacks. He also had a black eye. “Okay, ready to go?”

“Practice debate,” Catelyn said flatly.

“Yeah. Debate club’s first official debate is next week,” Arya explained. “We picked a random topic and a random side. Israel-Palestine. It got pretty heated. Lots of pathos. And some fists.” She gestured to Bran’s black eye and her bloody split lip. As Catelyn looked her wild daughter up and down, it was clear that she’d refused to wear the beautiful red dress that Ned had bought just for her. She was wearing what appeared to be the slacks Bran was supposed to be wearing and a white button up shirt. And of course she and her twin were sporting marks from their friendly fistfight.

“You two...you act like...like this. I...have no words,” Catelyn sighed. “Just please get in the car.” The two scrambled away, racing each other down the stairs and laughing. The next door in the hall was Bran’s room, passed over quickly to the door to Sansa’s room. When Catelyn wrenched the door open herself, refusing to knock, she was greeted with a strange sight. Sansa and her adopted son Theon were both in footie pajamas, watching some Disney movie on a laptop.

“Hi, Mom!” Sansa said brightly. “Wanna watch _Mulan_ with us?”

Catelyn’s shouting threatened to bring the roof down. “WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE CHAPEL TEN MINUTES AGO FOR THE MIDNIGHT SERVICE AND YOU TWO AREN’T EVEN DRESSED?!”

“Mom, calm down!” Theon said, rolling his eyes. He unzipped the ridiculous pajamas and was wearing churchgoing clothing underneath. Sansa did the same. Catelyn felt an absurd rush of love for the two. Sansa was sixteen, already a junior in high school, and almost out of the house. It broke her heart. The eldest daughter and the mother always share a special bond. And Theon, eighteen and a senior in high school, was a special case. Like her son Jon, he was adopted, but the circumstances had been tragic. His father had worked with Ned and sadly passed away when the boy was nine and his younger sister was six. Ned had swept in to adopt the young siblings, and they had been her children ever since. Asha and Arya were thick as thieves. And speaking of Yara...

“Just get in the car, the both of you,” Catelyn sighed. She skipped over Theon’s room and knocked on the door to Jon’s. Her fury had abated slightly with the ridiculous formalwear-under-pajamas hijinx, but she still knew they would be late to the service and probably glared at by Mel, the very fanatic Catholic priestess who usually delivered the sermons.

Down in the gigantic living room Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Theon sat smashed together on a couch, sharing what they called “Confession Time.” Their general rule of thumb was that if they had some sinful bit of news to share with each other, they had to get it out of the way before they went to church every Sunday. They’d been so busy with those various sinful activities that they hadn’t been able to have a minute with each other all week.

Theon took a deep breath and ran his hands over the rich leather of the couch. “I guess I’ll start, guys. I, um, have a boyfriend.”

“Spill!” Arya demanded immediately, climbing over Bran and Sansa to get to Theon. There were shouts of protest. Theon groaned in irritation when she dropped in his lap. “Tell us _everything_!”

“We need to be quick before Mom gets done grabbing everyone else,” Sansa reminded him. “She’s on the hunt. We can do the details before we get back.”

“Okay, okay. His name is Ramsay -- he’s a senior too -- and he’s the son of this guy who owns a taxidermy shop. He’s really into...BDSMandsoamI!” Theon forced out in a quick, mortified whisper. He pushed Arya off his lap when she started laughing hysterically.

“Ramsay! Ramsay Bolton! He’s a total freak, Theon!” she cackled.

“Wait, Bolton?” Sansa gasped. “He’s that one punk kid, right? The one who kept a dead squirrel in his locker when I was a freshman?”

“Yes, now shut up,” Theon snapped. “Bran, it’s your turn.”

Bran blushed a deep shade of red and avoided looking at his siblings. “Uh...you guys know how that sophomore Jojen seemed like he was kinda into me?”

“Yeah?” Theon said, glad the attention was off of him.

“So, he texted me a couple nights ago and invited me to have a...a threesome with this really beautiful junior Meera, who I’ve kinda liked since like October. She’s the TA in my English class. And, uh...I just found out they’re step-siblings.” He turned white as a sheet.”They both want to date me and they’re both super cute and I’m freaking out.”

“Holy shit,” Sansa whispered.

She was about to ask a question when she was abruptly cut off by Bran saying, “No more questions until after church! Arya, go!”

Arya smirked. “I’ve got something that will make the pair of you look like prancing virgins.” She took a deep breath, smoothed down her button up shirt, and announced, “I hooked up with my dance teacher.” At the gasps of her siblings, she shrugged, but the smirk was still there. “It was all consensual and safe and stuff. But afterwards...Jaqen told me some things about teachers who hook up with students. Speaking of which, I’m gonna spoil Sansa’s little story by telling you all she hooked up with Mr. Clegane!”

Sansa’s face was redder than her hair. “I...” she managed, before Catelyn came storming down the stairs with the rest of the Stark siblings in tow.

“In the car, all of you!” she roared.

The teens trouped to the car in various states of blushing and smirking. Their vehicle was more bus than car, and reminded the kids of one of those dreadful vans Mormon families stashed their broods in. Once everyone was all buckled in, Sansa poked Arya in the ribs. “Why did you tell everyone?” she hissed. “It was my sin to say, not yours.”

Arya smirked. She kept her voice low, even under the loud chatter in the packed bus. “Sorry, sis, but I saw everything. Jaqen was walking me out to the parking lot and I saw you kissing in his classroom.”

“A kiss isn’t hooking up,” Sansa sniped.

“Yeah, but I know you did, skank.”

“ _I’m_ not the one hooking up with a foreign dance teacher who talks all weird. He probably doesn’t even have the proper credentials to be teaching high schoolers.” Ever the proper little lady, she just had to get that dig in there.

“Don’t talk about Jaqen that way. And _I’m_ not the one hooking up with a burn victim old enough to have actually fought in the war he teaches about.” Arya was pretty proud of that one.

Sansa elbowed her in the ribs and gave her a nasty look. Theon, who was crammed into the very backseat with them, was trying to pretend he wasn’t hearing the little fight. His adoptive sisters fought like cats and dogs. Sometimes it was hard to believe those girls were even related. He was thinking about Ramsay, as he often was, and wondering if it would be easy to get him over to the house one of these days. Dad often had trouble sleeping, but once he took his sleeping pills, he was out like a damn light. Mom slept so hard that she had once slept through a small earthquake that had hit the area. He was sure Ram would want to stay over one of these days. They’d only been dating for a couple of weeks, but his boyfriend liked to take things...fast. And hard. And rough.

He tried to subtly adjust his slacks. Ram wanted to teach him how to skin animals and stuff them. Introducing him to the beautiful-brutal art of taxidermy, he called it. Kid was weird and wonky in the head, but he was a good fuck and he sure did have a sweet side to him. Knowing him, he’d probably make their taxidermy lesson into some sort of erotic scene or something.

One row up, Jon, Robb, and Bran were all crammed together. Jon and Robb were mooning about their girlfriends. Ygritte was one of Jon’s favorite people because she could kick his ass three ways to Sunday. Margaery was one of Robb’s favorite people because she could do all that ass-kicking, but be disturbingly cunning and covert about it. Those two were thick as thieves and conspiratorial to boot. They scared their boys sometimes. Bran was considering the bodies of the two people who had crushes on him. It was hard to believe that a cute junior girl, especially one who had graded his shitty English work, would like him. Let alone want to sleep with him! And her sophomore brother, all cute and skinny and blonde, liked him and wanted to sleep with him too. But he was only a freshman. It was all so overwhelming. He’d never actually kissed anyone before, but he’d certainly be okay with kissing these two, even doing a little more with him. He just hoped he didn’t have to choose between them. Or that they didn’t just want to sleep with him one time and then never speak to him again. He clenched his fists in his lap and started out the window at the darkened road grinding by beneath their car.

In the next row, Asha and Rickon were playing a card game to keep the little boy from falling asleep. He never stayed up this late, and kept nodding off. Asha was feeling a little irritated with her big brother. There was something that snivelling dummy wasn’t telling her, and she knew it. She prided herself on being not only brave and bold, but observant and clever. She’d skipped sixth grade and was now a thirteen-year-old freshman. She was smart. Trying to be mature. But sometimes the others weren’t inclusive and she was left with the baby. As always.

“Ricky, do you have any tens?” she asked. He gave her a sleepy shrug. She gave his curls a gentle tug. “C’mon, kiddo, wake up. We gotta be alert and alive for church.”

“I wanna go to bed,” Rickon whined.

“Yeah, but imagine getting to walk into church and see the look on Mel’s face when you walk into church in your new shoes,” she goaded.

Rickon considered. “They hurt my feet, but I look good.”

“You do,” she said, and poked him in the ribs. “C’mon, Ricky, got any tens?”

When they finally got to the church, the entire family was exhausted, cranky, about thirty minutes late, and half were having illicit affairs.

“...and in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus wondered if he really had to die, and painfully at that, for all of us, we who are but --” The Stark family blundered in loudly, cutting Mel’s impassioned speech right off. The red-haired priestess laser-eyed on to the family, glaring with every ounce of fury she possessed. “...ungrateful sinners,” she snarled.

“Well, _that’s_ good timing in a tirade,” Jon murmured to Robb, who choked on a laugh.

Mel got a good look at Rickon’s bright pink stilettos and nearly vomited. “Welcome, Starks,” she growled. “So glad you could finally join us. Take a seat at any time.”

The teens all smothered chuckles and smashed into a pew. Catelyn and Ned took the pew behind them, along with Rickon, to keep an eye on their unruly clan. To their credit, everyone was quiet during the service. They took religion dead seriously, even if they picked and chose what to follow. What with all their sins confessed, they absorbed the stories and sermons they’d heard a thousand times with a grain of salt. But there were some lessons to be learned, some stuff to be gleaned from it. Midnight mass was nice every now and again, even if it was a little irritating on school nights.

By the time they were home and settled, it was two AM and everyone was exhausted. Rickon had been asleep pretty much since they’d arrived in the church, and everyone else wasn’t that far behind. Ned took his sleeping pill and crashed down next to Catelyn. They were both asleep in minutes after trading a few lazy kisses and discussing how proud they were of their children.

Arya hung back as Jon and Robb went off to bed, gesturing to her sin-sharing crew. “I know it’s late, but we’ve gotta finish our session.”

Theon yawned but nodded, settling down in an overstuffed chair in the den. The den was actually one of the smallest rooms in the entire house, just a little cutaway that was probably meant to be a large mudroom before they’d bricked up the side door.  It had one couch and a couple overstuffed chairs in it as an afterthought. This was where most of the deep life chats went down. Sansa took the other chair and Bran joined her on the couch.

Arya steepled her fingers and glanced around wickedly. “Details. Now. Since I outed Sansa here, let’s start with her.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’re so immature sometimes.”

“I mean, I’d like to know,” Bran offered.

“ _Fine_ . I’ll have you all know I’ve been maintaining my 4.0, but Mr. Clegane is kind of...difficult. He doesn’t like my writing style, says it’s too proper and uptight. He said I needed to unwind, and kept giving me _C_ s.” She sniffed, irritated. “I don’t _get_ a C. Ever. So I asked him to tutor me a few days, to give me some pointers on how to get the damn A. So he helped me. But then we started talking a little bit, and I came back even after I got the A. And last week, I just...kissed him. He kissed me back.” She smirked. “He doesn’t even care that I’m only sixteen. Said it’s the age of consent somewhere, so that’s good enough for him.”

Everyone seemed duly impressed. “Isn’t a little weird,” Bran said carefully, “that he’s so much older? I mean, his life experience is a lot different than yours.”

Sansa nodded. “Well, yes. Yeah. But he’s lived long enough to be...wise. And mature. And I won’t ever bother with teenage boys,” she said primly. “Now Bran, fess up.”

“”There’s not much more to tell,” he said with a shrug. “Meera is the TA in English. She goes nuts because my grammar is bad but my writing is good. That’s what she says. She says I don’t care enough to make my grammar good. Sort of...teases. And then Jojen is in my math class and he proposed the...threesome...with Meera. Your turn, Theon.”

Theon blushed. He was usually so snarky and cocky and didn’t bow to anyone. Lately he’d been...changed. Quieter. A little more...meek, Bran noticed. “Yeah, uh, Ramsay. He’s sort of strange. He grabbed me after our anatomy class one day and got up in my face. He was saying some weird things about my body and the frogs we’d been dissecting that day? Uh. I dunno. It was gross, but he said he wanted to do it to me.”

“Dissect you?!” Arya cried.

“Uh, yeah. That. I was freaked out at first, but then I was really into it. And it just kind of...evolved from there.”

“ _De_ volved, you mean,” Arya grumbled.

“C’mon, then, tell your story, if you’re so above it all. At least Sansa’s legal somewhere. You’re practically a kid,” Theon snapped.

Arya smirked haughtily, even rivalling Sansa. “A kid who’s getting some. Jaqen thinks I’m the best dancer in the whole troupe. He told me so! I mean, he told me I was the worst in the troupe in front of everyone, but then said I’m too self-righteous and that’s why he said that. He said he likes my spirit, but he’s teaching me _humility_. I’m learning a lot from him. Like how to be more flexible and...dexterous. Under his guidance, I’m gonna be the best dancer the Faceless Men have ever had. I’ll be the prima ballerina, just you watch. He’s gonna fix me up in exchange for some, um, favors.” She winked.

Bran grimaced. “That sounds a lot like...grooming.”

Theon nodded. “I’m twisted, but that’s a little fucked up.”  

“You’re only fourteen. There are eighth graders that age. This just seems a little wrong. Actually, a lot wrong,” Sansa said, for once not attempting to prove superiority. “Jaqen is taking advantage of you.”

Arya scowled. “You’re all judging me?! After what you all do? Are _currently doing_?! That’s what fucked up. It’s like three AM. I’m going to bed.” She stormed out of the little den and up the grand staircase, stomping soundly with each step. Pissed beyond words.

Theon whistled softly. “Well that went well,” he muttered. “I’m gonna hit the hay too.” The rest of them buzzed off to bed within the next few minutes, each thinking of their significant others and what the hell they were going to do with them.

XXX

They were all crushed together around the dinner table the next few days, when Ned proposed what could either be a disaster or a miracle. “I’ve been thinking about having a dinner party this Saturday,” he said thoughtfully. “Let’s say you can each bring one guest, whoever you like. Try to bring someone who can contribute to a lively discussion or give us some culture.”

Theon, Sansa, Arya, and Bran exchanged uncomfortable but knowing looks looks. Robb, Jon, and Asha, who were privy to their siblings’ relationship statuses, shot the four of them _looks_. A smirk slowly spread across Arya’s face. “Dad,” she asked innocently, “could I invite my dance teacher? He could totally contribute some interesting conversation.”

Jon just about choked on his mashed potatoes.

Ned considered. “If a teacher deems it appropriate, I don’t see why not. That could be very interesting.”

“Right, Daddy,” Sansa said, as cute and demure as she could make it, “it’ll be a very interesting evening.”

The boys were the color of curdled milk. The girls were grinning wickedly.

XXX

It had taken all sorts of cajoling, begging, promises. Arya had had to _tour jete_ for twenty-five minutes, ignoring Jaqen’s barbed remarks about her form. The mirrors of his studio has flashed by in a twisty rainbow blur. She’d never learned how to spot, so at the end, she had been so dizzy she’d vomited. “Well, a man sees a girl is committed to her silly idea,” he murmured when she recovered. He stroked her cheek. “A man will come to a girl’s dinner.”

Arya frowned. “You can’t speak that way at dinner. My dad will have a heart attack.”

“This is a man’s native way of speaking.”

“I just spun so hard I puked, Jaq-ass.”

Jaqen chuckled. “Fine, a man -- I mean, _I_ will concede, you stubborn girl. Now give a man a kiss.”

And so she did.

It had been harder for Sansa to convince Sandor to come. They were eating dinner at his house, some weirdly balanced and healthy meal. They ate in silence at his wooden kitchen table for perhaps ten minutes. He’d never been big on conversation. Finally, she blurted it out. The answer had been a brusque and resounding _no_ . Actually, more of a _fuck no_.

“Sandor, please,” she’d begged. “It would be fun. My mom’s the best cook you’ll ever meet and the conversation would be really, really good. It’s very stimulating. You could tell them about Vietnam. Everyone would love to hear you--”

“Stop it! I’m not going to your house, little bird. Sure as fuck not meeting your family.”

“You’ve already met some of my family,” she whined, a little stung. “Jon _and_ Theon took your class.”

“Your brothers as my students are different than your damn mother and father,” he rasped. “ _Let it go_.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t know you’re my --” She cut herself off. They hadn’t exactly discussed labels yet. “Whatever. They wouldn’t know we’re...together.”

“This shouldn’t be an issue at all. Don’t...don’t _whine_ , little bird. Don’t act your age. You’re never immature. Don’t begin now.” He looked down at his plate, spooning up some green beans and steak.   

Sansa started crying. She couldn’t help it. She really loved Sandor, she really, really did. She wasn’t trying to be immature. She honestly did know why he didn’t want to come over, why they had to keep their relationship a secret. It just smarted a little sometimes that he could never even allow himself to be seen with her. They never went out anywhere. He rejected the idea of a darkened cinema on the other side of town, even though it was out of the school district. He nixed even going to the next town over just for some damn dinner! It was always takeout delivery and Netflix at home and separate cars everywhere. She was just tired of being kept under wraps, stealing kisses with this gentle giant. He acted like he loved her only rarely. She knew why, obviously. Sandor would be fired, maybe even face jail time. She’d be ostracized at school, maybe forced into therapy. But...but even if it was irrational, she just--

“Sandor,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m -- not trying to -- I just --” Suddenly it was all just coming out and she was hiccuping and gasping for breath. She was sure her face was just as red as her hair. She clenched her fists in her lap and tried to explain herself through sobs. “Rationally, I know why -- I just l-love you and -- I wish we could b-b-be _normal_ sometimes --!” She couldn’t breathe again and buried her face in her hands. Sandor probably wanted nothing to do with her right now.

And then Sandor was hugging her hard, smoothing down her hair and rocking her from side to side. “Shush, little bird, stop crying. Shush, shush.” She sniffled into his chest. It was the most he’d touched her in days, since Arya had seen that stolen kiss at school. “This relationship puts a lot of pressure on you, I understand. I’m sorry, Sansa. Don’t mean to force you to grow up too fast, and I worry that’s exactly what I’m doing, eh? But I, unh, love you too, kid. I do. So don’t take it personally. For a few years, keep it secret, safe for us. When you’re eighteen, we’re golden. You graduate, we go public. There’s my promise. I’ll do your damn dinner -- as your teacher. This is a bad idea. Terrible, actually. Your father will rip my head off if we go public. The man defiling _his_ baby girl was in _his_ home, pretending to just be a teacher.” He held her at arm’s length and studied her. “An awful idea. But this is happening. And we’ll talk out the rest of what’s on your mind after dinner, huh?”

She nodded, watery-eyed. It was the most Sandor had ever spoken to her in one sitting. She knew their conversation was far from over, but she felt so much better. So much better.

Wth Bran, all he had to do was send a group text. He told Meera and Jojen that he was having a family dinner, he’d love it if they came, and that they could sneak off at some point in the night. The devious kids said yes in a heartbeat. Bran was so nervous that he could hardly type out: “I’m excited.” The next day, he saw Meera in English and just about choked on his tongue. Her hair was up in pigtails and she wore a pale pink crop top and shorts. She leaned down over his desk to hand him back a paper.

“Good job, Bran, A-plus,” she said huskily, winking.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Your prose has gotten so much better. I’m proud of you. Can’t wait for your dinner party.” The way she spoke, it was like everything had a double entendre. She hopped up on his desk, ignoring the rest of the kids in the class and the stack of papers in her arms. “You’re gonna have a great time, baby.”

Bran just choked on his tongue again.

At lunch that day, both Jojen and Meera found him sitting with his brothers.

“Excuse me,” Jojen said jauntily, “could I borrow him for a second?”

Jon glared. “Seems like a lot of people have been taking advantage of our younger siblings lately. I don’t know if you can.”

“Jon c’mon,” Bran mumbled. He got up and went with Jojen to his and Meera’s table. Sat down gingerly. “Uh, hi, guys.”

“I think there’s been a miscommunication,” Jojen said, glaring at Meera as she bit into an apple. “Meera here likes to tease. I think she’s freaking you out a little bit. We just wanna assure you that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” He touched Bran’s cheek, smiled softly. It was like it was just the two of them in that giant cafeteria.

“Okay,” Bran said, for once not a mumble. “Okay. I’m not, don’t worry.” He looked at Meera, still munching her apple and grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “I really like the both of you. I’m just -- I’ve never even had significant other, so I--”

Meera pinched his cheek. “Don’t sweat it, Mr. Brandon! Ease up, huh, baby?”

He smiled. “Could we, um, could we take it slow, the three of us?”

Jojen nodded. “Sure!”

“I don’t know if you’re looking for just...the...threesome or what, but...”

Meera looked thoughtful. “No labels just yet, huh? But me and Jo here can function without sex. Just not without each other, huh, little brother?”

“Ew, don’t call me that. We’re not related,” Jojen said, his lip curling with distaste. “ _Step_ -siblings.”

The two of them bickered back and forth as Bran watched them. They were both beautiful, Meera’s wild hair and Jojen’s quiet strength. He liked them a lot. He didn’t know if he’d be good at this whole no-strings-attached thing if they wanted it. But they were coming to his dinner party and that was all that mattered.

For Theon, it went well. Very well. Ramsay was showing him how to gut an animal the least messy way possible when he brought it up. “My, uh, my dad is hosting a dinner party this Saturday. Want to come? We’re all inviting people.” His hands were full of dog guts. Bolton & Sons Taxidermy had been commissioned to taxidermy a woman’s family pet. Roose trusted Ramsay to do it, and now Ramsay was trusting Theon. It was sorta disgusting, sorta cool.

Ramsay adjusted the skin of the dog over the plaster cast of its body. “You can put its guts down now, Theon,” he snorted. “Dinner party. Family dinner...any chance you can sneak off, handsome? We never go to your house.”

“Probably. My sisters are bring the teachers they’re banging. They’re probably gonna be the center of attention on Saturday.”

“Banging teachers,” Ramsay muttered. “Figures. This puppy is done. Now wash your hands and let’s get down to business.” He looked at the tools on the wall, skinning knives and paring knives and big old steak knives. He winked.

Theon blanched, knew he’d have a few more bruises come the morning. “Perfect.”

Jon and Robb had no trouble inviting their devious girlfriends over. They were much beloved by Ned and Catelyn and that was that. Asha, on the other hand, was pissed. All of her siblings had these wild affairs or steady girlfriends. She was a freshman! Just like Bran and Arya, but no one would touch her because she was thirteen. She invited her friend Dany to dinner, but it wasn’t the same as having a significant other there.

And then the day of the dinner arrived. Asha and Dany watched from the window seat as guests arrived. First came Arya’s dance teacher, tall and thin with deep red hair. He was lanky but muscular, handsome as hell. Asha could see why Arya was smitten with him, even if the relationship was bad and weird. He walked up the grand drive and knocked at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Asha yelled before anyone else could. She wanted to get the measure of this man before any of her siblings could diffuse the situation she was about to start. She grabbed Dany’s hand and dragged her bodily to the door. She yanked it open, put on a tough face. “You must be Mr. H’ghar,” she said, jaw jutted.

He nodded, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Yes. You must be Asha. And you are...”

“Dany,” Dany said. She took her hand back and crossed her arms. “We’ve heard some _things_ about you, Mr. H’ghar.”

“Things from Arya,” Asha explained. The two of them had planned tag-team all week and were very proud of themselves.

“Pretty sordid things,” Dany said, idly playing with her white-blonde hair. She peered up through her eyelashes. She had the innocent little girl thing down. “Things that are pretty shocking to a pair of freshman girls.”

Asha nodded sagely. “We wanna know your...motivations, Mr. H’ghar. My sister is only a little bit older than me. I wanna protect her.’

“And I’m over here so often, I’m basically a member of this family, so Arya is nearly my sister as well,” Dany added. She crossed her arms and glowered. “So we’re pretty concerned here.” At that moment, Arya came tearing down the grand staircase.

“You shits!” she roared. “Absolute shits! Shoo!” She wore a white button up and jeans, just as she had on church night, along with a purple tie. Purple high tops. Her short hair was pulled back into the tiniest ponytail possible. She skidded over marble floors and Oriental carpets, finally reaching the window seat and the open front door. She grabbed Asha and Dany by the backs of their little white dresses and yanked them backwards. “I said no interrogations, you shits. I’ll clobber you!” The facial lacerations hadn’t quite faded from her practice debate with Bran and she looked quite intimidating.

Asha’s fiery spirit paled just a little bit. “We only wanna protect you,” she offered. Glaring up at Jaqen, she added, “From guys who groom little girls.” Dany nodded furiously.

Arya softened a little bit. She took Jaqen’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Ease up, twits. Jaqen’s good. Now get the fuck out of here and go interrogate someone else.” The two girls nodded meekly. Arya took Jaqen into the tiny sitting room where she and her siblings had confession time. “Hey, Jaq-ass, glad you’re here,” she said with a grin.

He kissed her cheek. “A man is glad as well, even if a girl is a brat.” The two of them crowded on to the little couch.

“No talking like that,” she chided him. “Remember?”

“Right, sorry.”

“We’d better get in and you’d better meet my parents, Mr. Dance Teacher,” she giggled. “My siblings know, parents don’t. Don’t piss them off.”

“A man -- er, I can’t seem to believe each of your siblings know. I’m far more likely to be arrested, you realize this?” His tone was light, jovial even, but the concern was real.

“We’ve got a little family unit, and I’ve got blackmail on each of them. No one knows outside of our family unit, and it stays that way, got it?”

Jaqen shrugged, wondering what precisely he’d gotten himself into. There was s=no clear answer to the morality of this situation, or if one of these loose-lipped siblings of hers -- and their close friends and significant others, evidently -- would slip up and tell someone. “Who knows about this...dalliance?” he asked. “Before we go meet your family, who knows?”

Arya heard Dany and Asha grilling Ramsay in the foyer and smiled wanly. “Uhh...Sansa knows.”

“Yes, your sister. Who else?”

“Bran...”

“And your twin. Who else?”

“Well, Asha and Dany. Jon. Robb. Um, their girlfriends. Theon and Ramsay. Uh, Meera and Jojen and maybe, uh, Mr. Clegane.” She was red in the faced and stammering by the end of it. As the Jaqen did the math in his head, she waited for him to reprimand her, to storm out of the house.

“That is thirteen people.”

“...yes.”

He sighed deeply. “And you know of their affairs and indiscretions? Your elder sister’s affair with a teacher? Your adopted brother’s weird tryst with the taxidermy boy?”  

 She nodded, a quick back-and-forth like a bobblehead. “Our family unit is tight. Nothing escapes it. Dany just got added recently, but we’re airtight, Jaq, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “A man supposes that will have to be enough.”

And so they made their way to the dinner table. Approximately twenty minutes later, a large group of mostly uncomfortable people were seated at the Starks’ grand dining table. It was a long, polished thing made of cherry wood. The dining room was almost like the banquet hall in a castle. The walls were painted a buttery yellow, covered in tapestries and pale blue fairy lights. Candelabras lined the table, giving off a faint and flickering light. The whole thing had a sort of otherworldly feel to it. Ned and Catelyn sat right in the center, across from a sullen Sandor and an unsettled Jaqen. They were animatedly asking questions of the two men, prompting Sandor to lecture on his personal favorite battles to teach about.

“Dien Bien Phu,” he grumbled.

Ned nodded sagely. “Ah, I just read an article on the fall of Dien Bien Phu, actually. Please, tell us about it. Quiet down, everyone!” The odd group quieted down as Sandor uncomfortably began to describe the battle. Eventually, they had everyone take a turn talking. They listened to Ygritte talk about growing up in Alaska with a group of distant relatives and how exciting it had been. They discussed Jaqen’s childhood, the strict regiment of ballet and gymnastics. His years on Broadway before he had injured his ankle.

“A ma-- I broke my ankle two years ago,” he explained. “I’ve been teaching at studios to make ends meet, but I will be going back to New York soon.” He patted Arya’s arm, as she was next to him. “There are schools in New York -- boarding schools for the arts. They would be lucky to have your daughter. Discuss this, if you would.” He handed Catelyn a business card, much to everyone’s surprise .

Ramsay gave a very detailed and disturbing tutorial on how to skin various types of animals. He poked the duck they were eating with his fork. “Birds, now birds are harder. Plucking their feathers, or y’know if you want them intact --”

Ned, looking a little green, politely suggested that they move on. They ate until they could eat no more, talked long into the night. Ned decided the teenagers should stay the night at their house to avoid a long drive home in the dark. They firmly placed Ygritte and Margaery in Sansa’s room. Meera roomed with Arya, Jojen and Ramsay with Robb. Asha and Dany were together, of course, and Sandor and Jaqen drove away...or so they thought.

Immediately, the teens switched significant others into rooms like a game of musical chairs. The teachers snuck back upstairs, doors were locked and shut.

 _Activities_ ensued.      

In Arya’s room, she was demonstrating just how flexible dancing had made her. In Sansa’s, she was nearly crying with joy as she and Sandor tentatively planned out a future. Bran, Jojen, and Meera were lazily trading kisses and shyly exploring bodies. Robb was being reminded that Margaery was in charge. Ygritte was showing Jon just what kissed by fire really meant. Ramsay was trying out some new tools on Theon, who was very glad Ned and Cat slept like the dead.

Asha was giggling with Dany. “They’re probably all making out upstairs,” she chuckled.

“Don’t be naive, they’re fucking,” Dany responded.

Asha shook her head. “I can’t believe they’re doing that while Mom and Dad are in the house. And the _teachers_.”

“What dogs.”

“Honestly.”

They paused for a moment, thinking. Dany’s face grew somber. “Feels kind of...sad to be the only single people in the house.”

“Well...there’s Rickon.”

Dany threw a pillow at Asha, smothering her giggles. “Nasty! He’s seven!”

Asha shrugged. “”Then you’re stuck with me, weirdo.”

“The only single people in the whole house,” Dany repeated wistfully.

“Yeah.”

“In a house full of couples...just us...”

They locked eyes. Blinked a few times.

And then they were kissing.

Outside, the stars winked into existence, one by one.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, all that underage is kinda gross so sorry, fam. Tried to discuss the aspect of grooming with Jaqen/Arya. Don't worry, it'll be addressed A LOT in the future fics.


End file.
